For sure.

He hit the mess and the showers, then made his way over to the stockade. When he arrived, he was far from the only one. Several men were clustered on the walkway around the stockade, looking down at new arrivals. More than one, Mark was amused to note, had taken notice of his newest. He was unsurprised; she stood out among the others, standing tall and staring fiercely back at the gate. He wasn't surprised at her attitude after the fight she'd given him.

"You better keep an eye on this one, Mark," another soldier called. He nodded, acknowledging the tacit praise for his ability to capture her. He pointed her out to a stockade guard, and the man actually looked **** to go in and pull her out.

As the guard reached the woman, his **** proved prophetic. Unarmed, she waited until he was about to reach for her when she suddenly threw a wild haymaker across his jaw, sending him stumbling back. Shouts burst out from around the stockade as she made a break for the entrance, despite the four men standing guard. Mark saw her coming and ducked through the gate, despite his weariness. This woman was worth hanging on to, and he'd be damned if he'd see her wasted in an escape attempt.

Two or three other men jumped into the pen behind him as he braced to take on the Amazon charging at him. He stood directly in her path and let her come straight to him, stepping out of the way at the last second and swinging an arm around her waist to throw her off balance onto the ground. She recovered quickly, but her charge towards the gate had been stopped, and Mark waved back the other men as the woman came up to her feet, clearly not done fighting.

"You want another round, sister?" Mark threw down the challenge. "Let's go." She replied with a ringing "Bastard!" and faked a leap at him. By this time the other women had cleared out a space, knowing better than to join in. Mark rolled to the side and they faced each other again. This time, he didn't wait for her to make a move.

Mark stepped in with his right side, swinging short jabs at her arms and circling. She clawed back at him, raking his arms and avoiding his punches. Suddenly she leaped into a balletic flying kick that almost took Mark's head off. He ducked beneath it at the last second, then lunged into her, knocking her off her feet. She rolled back to her feet and faced him again, but he didn't let her take the offensive. He lunged in again, this time grabbing her left arm and yanking it to the ground. Already sore from the beating he'd given her earlier, the attack made her yelp in pain. As she pulled back to her feet, he did it again, this time hanging on and hauling on the arm repeatedly. She cringed and tried to turn her body to pull the arm in, but Mark had her now. He pulled her once more and used the momentum to pull her in front of him, trapping her arm behind her and wrenching it up. She dropped to her knees, almost crying with pain.

The rest of the soldiers dispersed as Mark led her by her nearly dislocated arm to the gate of the stockade. The big guard that she had initially hit had been brought out by his fellows, and he spat at her feet as Mark took her away. Not to the showers for this one; she was going to the iron room.

The iron room was a room that was used for more difficult women. The ones like Mark's, who wouldn't quit fighting even after capture, were often brought here, because it made things easier. It was actually a number of rooms in a large building, but it was called the iron room because it was for securing women who wouldn't adjust. Mark marched his new keeper into the center of one of the rooms and locked her left arm into a manacle hanging from the ceiling. Because of her height, she had more slack than usual, but he knew she wouldn't test it with her strained shoulder. Her face showed that she had plenty of fight left in her, though, despite the ache.

Mark let her hang for a moment, then almost casually drove a fist into her stomach. The breath rushed out of her and she started to double over until she hit the end of her chain and jerked to a halt. She moaned under her breath, now keeping an eye on him at every moment. He stepped outside of her range and studied her.